Broken
by chinocoop81
Summary: “I think you’re too broken for your own good,” He said. “I can’t help it, people broke me,” she whispered. “So take me broken and fix me, or leave me alone.” AU RM One Shot


**A/N I was thinking of Lollypops and Letters last night and I got a line stuck in my head that I could've used for the story. I wanted to use that line in something, so I came up with this. Feedback is appreciated.**

Marissa Cooper was broken. She knew that, and so did everyone else in Newport. Everyone quietly watched as she became more and more reserved, her eyes becoming increasingly empty, her voice losing all its emotion. They saw the way that her mother talked to her; criticized until she couldn't take it anymore and stormed away. They all knew that one day she was going to be broken into so many pieces that no one could pick up, and still, they didn't do anything, just watched from a distance, awaiting the moment that she was completely destroyed.

She skipped school every once in a while. No one said anything. No one called her mom. Everyone knew that if Julie Cooper knew that her daughter was skipping class, she would make Marissa disappear even more. One day she was on the beach when she heard someone come up behind her and say, "It's odd how parents are supposed to teach us right from wrong, but end up destroying us even more everyday."

She turned and saw a blonde hair, blue eyed guy about her age. He stared at her intently, his eyes concerned. She didn't know what it felt like to see someone concerned about her anymore, so she looked away, too shocked to be able to stare him in the eyes. She just nodded and shrugged, hugging her knees up to her chest. He sat beside her and she felt some kind of calmness settle over her. She'd forgotten how to feel anything, especially calm. Usually she just felt blank or numb, lost and alone, quiet and empty. Her lips pursed together for a moment before opening and saying, "I guess."

He went on after she spoke, but she didn't know why. Why was he talking to her? "I think that maybe parents should fuck off you know? Because what good are they doing? So what if we get a bad grade? Life goes on. It always does." She turned to him and shrugged, then looked back out at the endless waves, getting lost in the water. "You really shouldn't let your parents get to you though. We're too young to be as messed up as they make us out to be." He stood and started to walk away. She didn't want him to leave.

"What's your name?" She asked quietly, thinking he wouldn't hear her. He did, and he turned around to silently observe her a minute.

"Ryan Atwood," He said, then walked away. She wondered if he would come back. She wondered if he would even want to.

The next day he was there again, waiting. She felt as if he was invading her personal space, but she sat down next to him anyways, pulling her knees to her chest. She rested her chin on them and then glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at the ocean, pretending she wasn't there. Maybe he didn't even know that she was there. She wondered if she should say something to let him know. She decided not to. After a while she shivered, and he quickly turned, catching sight of the movement. The way he looked at her made her shiver again, but not from being cold. She wasn't used to being looked at like that. "You cold?"

She nodded and whispered, "Always."

He took of his leather jacket and slung it around her shoulders, leaving his hands there for a few seconds longer than he should've. She shrugged him off and he pulled away, a slight smile on his face. She lifted her lips, trying to mimic him. She hadn't smiled in so long. She never wanted to. "That's a weak smile," He pointed out with a smirk.

"That's a weak comment," She retorted, her voice just above a whisper.

He smiled even more and looked out at the water once again. She watched him for a long time, observed his body. He glanced over at her and smirked. "You like what you see?" He asked, but she could tell it was a loaded question. His face was amused, his eyes were curious and thoughtful. She'd never seen eyes like that before. Most eyes she saw were angry or disgusted.

She shrugged and said, "It's different." Her voice was a normal level now, still softer from lack of use than most, but now audible to more people than just him.

He stared at her curiously, his eyes even more interesting now. "Different how?"

She shrugged and looked out at the water. "Just different."

After a week of a comment every now and then, she was beginning to look forward to this mysterious Ryan Atwood next to her. She'd seen him briefly at school once, but he never talked to her and she never talked to him. He watched over her sometimes, she could tell that much by the way he stared at her, his eyes burning into her skin. She walked to their spot and saw that he was already there, as usual. She sat next to him, a little closer this time and stared out at the water for a second. "My mom told me I'm ugly," She murmurs, not looking at him in fear of how he would see her. Would he see what her mother saw?

"Your mom can go to hell," He said softly, causing her to turn her head to him quickly. She saw disgust there and she cowered back into her usual shell. "I can't believe anyone could say that about you. You're beautiful, Marissa."

She came out of the shell slowly, inching out like a snail. "Really?" She asked, the blood rushing to her cheeks.

He put a hand on her cheek and looked at the rosy red color she had now. He smiled and murmured, "Color."

She put her hand on top of his, her heart racing, her stomach feeling all queasy and fluttery. He looked into her eyes and she took his hand from the side of her cheek and put her hand inside of his, letting him wrap his larger hand around hers. She saw this as some kind of symbol, that maybe he would take care of her. She felt him slide his fingers in between hers and the corners of her mouth twitched up slowly. He smiled but didn't comment. She liked him even more for that.

Two weeks after she first saw him, she opened up a little bit more. She turned to him and said, "Sometimes I feel like my life isn't worth anything."

He shook his head and said, "Everyone's life is worth something, even if you can't see it at the time."

"What's my life supposed to be worth? I don't do anything, no one would care if I lived or died," She said, but her eyes didn't water. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried. "Sometimes I think it would be easier…" But she didn't get to finish her sentence.

"If you think that way, you're never going to get better. Don't let anyone get to you," He said, staring at her for a long time, his blue eyes warming her cold heart.

"I don't know how not to think that way," She admitted, her eyes showing her pain. She couldn't remember feeling the pain. She only remembered emptiness.

He scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her towards him. She didn't fight back or resist him in any way, just rested her head on his shoulder. "Don't think at all, just sit here with me," he murmured, taking hold of her left hand. She listened and shut her eyes, not thinking about her life and how much she didn't want to be a part of it.

One day he didn't show. She stared out at the beach and waited for him. She waited until it was dark, and still she waited for him. He never did show that day, and she walked home quietly, feeling an ache deep in her heart. She realized that she loved him, even though she didn't really know what love was. She just knew that she couldn't live without him, that he made her someone she wanted to be. She felt a pain in her heart, and all her previous feelings of worthlessness came back.

The next day she didn't go to the beach, thinking she needed her distance from Ryan Atwood. She didn't go that day or the next one, or even the one after that. She began to drift back to her old ways, thinking of how empty her life was. She let her mom talk her into being worthless once again. She believed that there really was no point to living at all.

One day she was walking on the pier when she felt a pair of strong arms pull her towards them. She didn't turn because she already knew who it was. She could tell by the way he buried his face in her hair, of the way his strong hands held hers. "You didn't come," He murmured, his voice bringing back all the feelings she'd felt around him. All the feelings she felt, period.

"Neither did you," She said, pulling away from him.

"I had to do something that night," He tried to explain. She really didn't want to hear it. She heard nothing but excuses her whole life. She didn't want to forgive him. She always forgave people. They never forgave her.

"I don't care," She said, starting to walk away. His strong arms pulled her back.

"Yes, you do. You care more than you want to admit," He said, pulling her head to his chest. "It's okay to let yourself feel, you know."

She shook her head against his chest and said, "No, it isn't."

"You let too many people get to you. You need to stop caring what they think and care about what you think about yourself…about what I think of you," He murmured, lifting her head to look into her eyes.

"What do you think about me?" She asked, curious to know the answer. She found she needed him to think something of her.

"I think you're too broken for your own good," He said, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I can't help it, people broke me," She whispered, a tear coming to her eyes. She felt him wipe it away and suddenly she knew that he cared. He was the only person that cared. "So take me broken and fix me, or leave me alone." She waited for his answer.

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her. She knew that with him, she'd never be broken again.


End file.
